Articles of 2009 - #6 Biffy Clyro

As I continue to trudge through the crispy underfoot crunch of articles past, I'm bringing us bang up to date with the most recent cover story I've done for Playmusic Pickup on the Scottish trio Biffy Clyro. As this article was altered, and this issue about to expire, I thought I'd bring it out into the relative open environment of the internet, just in time for the week of their UK tour and release of fifth full-length, Only Revolutions. By all means check out the last three Articles of 2009: Micachu, John Leckie & India Soundpad and 100% Genki. They're all great.

Is there anything more satisfying than seeing people who deserve success finally reap their rewards? Having fought, struggled and kept on and on, sometimes dispiritingly ignored or surviving on nothing, suddenly things bloom unexpectedly and beyond their control. Whether it comes from their fighting spirit, a growing belief from others or plain grim determination, the end result is always the same – congratulations from some, resentment from others. Success can come in many different forms. When in relation to music, we always think Top 10 chart placings and selling out venues. However, unlike a lot of possible careers, there’s a multi-tiered achievement scale. Biffy Clyro have always been a success artistically and remained true to themselves. While fans of Blackened Sky, The Vertigo of Bliss or Infinityland might shout you down, both Puzzle and the new album Only Revolutions are huge successes musically too. Puzzle brought the pain and hard times of the band into brittle focus, while Only Revolutions emerges triumphant, joyous and accomplished.

Squeezing upwards, climbing a tight spiralling staircase towards the room at the top of 14th Floor Records’ building, James Johnston and I sit upon separate burgundy sofas. The open space is a little disconcerting, especially as the camera crew, having already filmed the band here, pack up and leave. It’s like a huge breathing space has been left which can only be either the vacuum of silence or the dense catalogue of conversation. Niceties dealt with, my thumb, so used to pushing the notched, scarlet record button on my dictaphone, resumes its regular duty. The noticeable break between chat and interview is hastily plastered over with a question.

“We kinda made a joke that the last album sounded like a band going to war and this one sounds like a band coming back having won the war. That’s kinda why we started with the footsteps on the record coz we just thought that song (The Captain) with the brass and the rhythm of it would just make it sound like us getting into position,” explains James Johnston, the bass half of Biffy’s storming rhythm section.

Certainly The Captain is an unexpected introduction to the record, with its sea-shanty lullaby riot being pounded through layers of brass. To then be crushed by the weight of one of Biffy’s heaviest riffs with That Golden Rule, which resolves into a huge string arrangement, before the tickling melody line of Bubbles, well just the first three song run is enough to have your head spin.

“It feels great,” admits James when confronted with the reality of making their most positive album so far. “I think we’ve always been in the position where we could make whatever record we wanted to. We’ve always been quite a determined band and have a certain amount of self belief. We’ve all tried to make music that we enjoyed so never at any point did we feel constricted by what people expected us to do. In fact, in some way, what we enjoy doing is doing exactly what people wouldn’t expect us to do. Catch them off guard a little bit.”

All around us, beneath us, outside on the streets, life carries on, oblivious. It’s only when a hand dryer splits the air asunder, or the movement blurs the corner of our eyes, that it intrudes on us. As with any interview worth its salt, this is the result of pure engagement. Every member of Biffy are so committed to what they do that they hold your attention with their conviction. They are very clear to make sure answer remain well-considered and in line with their creative endeavours, or it’s all for nought.

“I don’t think any of us feel different as guys. We don’t interact with our family any differently and the good thing is we still love where we grew up. We still work as a band the same. We still practice on a little farm in a little village. There’s nobody around, just literally cows in a field next door, and nobody bothers us. I think that’s fundamental to our music making process. We’re not in a practice room in London where there’s lots of bands coming in and out and we’re not out on the town every night with everybody telling us how fucking great we are. Of course, there are more people listening to our music now which has always been an ambition of ours. When we all become arseholes you’ll be the first to find out,” James says, grinning.

When I bump into Simon Neil later, he’s smiling, more than happy to ask how I’m doing and genuinely pleased I may be able to come to their show in a few weeks time. James’ twin brother Ben is also accommodating and friendly. Nick the tour manager is balancing ten thousand things at once, but has time to smile shake my hand and ask after my wellbeing. Caroline, their press officer, has had an equally hectic schedule to keep up – and a Gregg’s run to complete for lunch - but is bright and chipper as ever. What’s important about this you may ask? Well, it’s another sliver in the giant prism that is success. The band and the small team assembled around them are all delightful people, deservedly part of this amazing success story unfolding, almost unbelievably, before our eyes.

“I’ll tell you what it has changed in the band,” says James, reconsidering his previously vague position on how success can affect a band like Biffy Clyro. “It’s probably given us more confidence, in a way. We’ve always been confident in our music. When things go well, and it’s because of the choices you’ve made, then it empowers you to feel strong about the choices you’re going to make in the future, I guess.” He’s quick to snap at any misconstrued accusations though. “It’s not like we can do no wrong, of course, but we’ve always made our own choices musically. You’ve alluded to the first three albums and these last two albums have been the same way. We like to think it’s people not getting the first three or that they didn’t understand the first three records. Who knows? We’ve obviously gotten better as a band as well. That has something to do with it. It’s kinda interesting. Mistakes will be round the corner and we’ve made mistakes in the past.”

It’s hard to image when these mistakes occurred and what missteps may happen in the future. It’s not unreasonable to believe Biffy are a new band, but to do so would be to miss out on their incredible album run from 2002 – 2004, an album a year, each one an entity to itself.

“There was a big change when Puzzle came out in terms of people’s perception. A lot of people now will interview us and say so this is our second record and it makes us a bit angry but at the same time that’s just the way it goes sometimes. We never try and repeat ourselves I think every album has been different. When we did Infinityland it was our very best attempt at complex pop music. Sometimes the pop bit was at the end of the song and you had to listen to some crazy shit to get there. I think the point we were going through in our lives with Puzzle, it was kind of determined by what the songs were about and having lots of different ideas in there could’ve taken away from the sentiment of the lyrics and that’s primarily why the album was simpler musically. This time around it’s been a bit different, it’s not so specific as it was on Puzzle.”

“’Softly spoken James Johnston’? Who ever said I was soft-spoken?” exclaims James when reading another publication’s cover story. Of course he isn’t softly spoken, just mild-mannered and an example where misrepresentation can end up giving readers the wrong shade or colour of a band, even if it seems inconsequential. Of course, cover stories in major UK publications were a distant goal back in the heady days of 1999 when they released their first single Iname or 2000’s thekidswhopoptodaywillrocktomorrow EP or even 2002’s debut album Blackened Sky.

“We really, really genuinely care about what we do and we don’t just say that because we’re in an interview situation. I think it’s obvious by what we’ve done for the last 10 years that we really care about what we do and I think that’s where our strength lies. That’s where we get enjoyment out of doing what we’re doing and having communication with people through our music and when you’re in a sweaty club with everyone singing along you can’t tell me that isn’t a community vibe. I think that’s where fulfilment comes, from doing it together”

A gang mentality? Maybe. James is at pains to describe it more like a family, or as he says several times, “brothers”. Clearly he and Ben feel Simon is family as much as the Johnston’s are twins. Having been together for so long, sealed within the registration county of Ayreshire, Scotland for most of their lives, that they’ve shared so much goes without saying.

“I think it’s very important to everybody really it informs everything about your life,” agrees James, when I describe my need to explore the notion of place as a key ingredient to any artist’s work. “I think it so happens that because we’re brothers coming together, who’ve had the same sort of experiences, it makes us very strong and I guess the attitude of people in our town influenced us in good ways and bad ways. It definitely informs a lot of the choices you make. We’ve all been fairly cynical guys maybe, glass half full kind of guys, we don’t get too carried away with things and I think they’re quite typical traits of a Scotsman. Some people talk of it as being dour but I think as a nation our people are warm and friendly but it’s in a different way. I think where you come from informs many things about your life not just music. Your attitude the way you dress the way you interact with different people. We don’t ever talk about it unless somebody asks but I think it’s important.”

Perhaps, and this is just conjecture, the fact that Biffy have one singular place they’ve always called home, and one quiet place to practice, they’ve given themselves foundations other bands lose when searching unknown musical territory. Biffy’s records have all been full of far-flung ideas, some even outlandish, but Biffy Clyro has been right at the centre of the storm they’ve whipped up, and it may be because they have a place to come back to.

“We’ve always felt strong as a three piece. The heart of the band lies in our relationships together and that’s what’s kept us so vital, hopefully, as a band and that’ll be what allows us to continue in ten years time. The fact that all three of us sing and we work really hard on the dynamics and, not just the dynamics of trying to go loud and quiet, but the dynamics of having a pretty song against an ugly song, and sometimes both within one song. I think that’s really important and we’ve always worked hard for that We just love the fact that it’s just the three of us up there doing it and sometimes people are like ‘this will sound shit, there’s just three people up there!’. I think the element of surprise has always been a big thing for us. We’ve always felt like underdogs.”

Sat around with Greggs wrappers on desks from a hastily devoured lunch earlier, reading their own press with good humour, watching the snooker on the plasma screen TV, organising a taxi to the airport to get back home to Scotland, they look every bit the unassuming, slightly over dressed Scottish lads. These same men have constantly re-evaluated their own take on music, redeveloped and re-shuffled everything to fit around it. So what do we think of when we think success? Unique personal expression, endurance in the face of adversity, inspiring in both achievement and humility, remaining true to your origins – whether all of these apply to a bunch of musicians really depends on how seriously you take music, but if it were applicable, then success could be described as Biffy Clyro.